


It Doesn't Matter What You Wear

by WynterRobin



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Superman - All Media Types, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 19:36:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11951181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WynterRobin/pseuds/WynterRobin
Summary: “When you look likethis? What’s that supposed to mean?” Tim glanced quickly at Conner, who was frowning down at his shirt, and then down, cursing himself. He should have known he would focus in on that part. “It just means that you don’t have to worry about what you wear when you already look like a model,” He snorted, picking at a loose thread in his shirt. “You could go to the gala wearing that and still pick up any single person in the room,”





	It Doesn't Matter What You Wear

“Okay so, this one.. or _this_ one?”   


Tim held up both suits with a flourish, turning expectantly to face his best friend. “Left,” Conner mumbled, not glancing up from where he was lounging across Tim’s bed, rapidly smashing buttons on his xbox controller. Tim made an impatient noise in the back of his throat. “You didn’t even look at them. Conner!”

There was an explosion on screen and Conner hissed, before sighing in defeat and tossing the controller down onto the comforter beside him. Finally his gaze shifted over to Tim, his brow wrinkling. “They’re the exact same,” He voiced dubiously, and then, “”So left,” 

Tim sighed, hanging both suits back up on the clothes rack and pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes closing. Conner had shown up while he was helping Alfred prepare for the Gala that Bruce was holding that night, and the butler had suggested that he may be able to help Tim with his wardrobe dilemma. So far, Conner hadn’t. Unfortunately it seemed that Tim was the only one who actually understood or cared about the subtle difference between wearing navy and dark blue. 

Tim flopped down onto the bed next to his friend, resisting the urge to whine. “You just don’t get it,” Conner frowned, having picked up the controller again. He hesitated before hitting restart on the game, turning instead to face his friend. “It doesn’t matter what you wear,” 

“Yeah well you would think that,” Tim leaned back against the pillows dejectedly. . Conner raised an eyebrow, folding his arms. “What does that mean?”   


“It means,” Tim sighed. “That you don’t have to worry about what you wear when you look like _that_ ,” He gestured vaguely at Conner. “Dick Grayson is my older brother Conner, I’m expected to live up to him. So yeah, for me it kind of does matter,”   


“When you look like _this_? What’s that supposed to mean?” Tim glanced quickly at Conner, who was frowning down at his shirt, and then down, cursing himself. He should have known he would focus in on that part. “It just means that you don’t have to worry about what you wear when you already look like a model,” He snorted, picking at a loose thread in his shirt. “You could go to the gala wearing that and still pick up any single person in the room,” 

“Anyone?” 

Tim looked up in surprise to find Conner looking at him intently. He realized then what the implications of what he had said were. Tim could feel his cheeks heating up and he swallowed, struggling to appear nonchalant. “Y-yeah,”

 It wasn’t like it wasn’t true, he may have had a tiny little crush on his best friend for a while now. Or a really really big crush, but, details. Either way, he wasn’t about to back out now, not to mention that Conner would probably laugh it off as a joke anyway. Although, had he really been that close a minute ago? Because Tim could have sworn he’d have noticed their legs brushing and - oh.   


Conner dropped the controller, leaning in and taking Tim’s face in his hands before pressing their lips together. Somewhere in the back of his mind Tim vaguely registered the small, startled noise he made, and then he was kissing him back. 

He reached up to clutch at the nape of Conner’s neck, pulling him in closer, his other hand settling on his thigh. A knock on the door had them springing apart, and when Alfred peered around the door there was at least three feet between them. 

The older man took in the boys flustered and ruffled appearance without even batting an eyelid. “One hour until you must be downstairs to welcome the guests Master Timothy. Would you like me to fetch one of the boys spare suits for Mr Kent?” 

Tim glanced at Conner questioningly,and received a slight nod in acceptance of his silent offer. “That would be great, thanks Alfred,” The butler retreated, shutting the door quietly behind him. 

There was quiet between the two for a moment, and then, “So, uh, the one on the left yeah?” Tim rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. Conner laughed, leaning in to press another quick kiss to Tim’s mouth. 

“It doesn’t matter what you wear. You’ll look good anyway,” 


End file.
